<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>The careful massacre of the bourgeoisie by makesometime</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27641519">The careful massacre of the bourgeoisie</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/makesometime/pseuds/makesometime'>makesometime</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>A Wilde Week 2020 [5]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Rusty Quill Gaming (Podcast)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>A Wilde Week 2020 (Rusty Quill Gaming), Established Relationship, Getting one over on the upper classes, Gossip, M/M, Party, Post-Canon, this one is unexpectedly hard to tag</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-20 22:41:43</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,315</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27641519</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/makesometime/pseuds/makesometime</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The world has gone through so very much.</p><p>So why is everything here so painfully, utterly… unchanged? Untouched. Ridiculous.</p><p>Was it always so ridiculous?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Zolf Smith/Oscar Wilde</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>A Wilde Week 2020 [5]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2016722</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>63</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>A Wilde Week 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The careful massacre of the bourgeoisie</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p><em>Day 5  - “Patriotism is the virtue of the vicious”</em><br/><strong>Meritocrats/Harlequins</strong> | Virtues | <strong>Viciousness</strong></p><p>(Title from Mr Robot)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>He has never particularly been concerned with the foibles of the upper classes. He knows how they work well enough to play his audience like a fiddle, to lead them in a merry dance and come out of it smelling of roses.</p><p>But with everything that’s happened in the world. Everything lost, including even himself at one point, and this is what he’s returned to?</p><p>The world has gone through so very much.</p><p>So why is everything here so painfully, utterly… unchanged? Untouched. Ridiculous.</p><p>Was it always so ridiculous?</p><p>“You alright?”</p><p>He looks down at Zolf, wondering for a moment why the dwarf looks so concerned. Zolf’s eyes look towards his hand and Oscar follows the gaze to find his fingers white-knuckled around the glass of wine he has no interest in drinking. With a winning smile he loosens his grip, affects a more leisurely pose and rests his forearm carefully on Zolf’s shoulder.</p><p>“Quite fine, Mr Smith.”</p><p>“How long do we have to put up with this?”</p><p>Zolf’s hand comes up in what would appear to be an attempt to dislodge Oscar’s arm to anyone who doesn’t know better. Instead, he feels the lingering of his lover’s touch as a centering, a grounding, fingers so very warm as they quickly skim over his palm, his wrist, his pulse.</p><p>“Oh, a little while yet I’m afraid. Once Edward’s arrived, we can probably take our leave. People need at least one war hero to fawn over, after all.”</p><p>He smiles winningly at a group by the window who have been watching them for several minutes. They turn back to their conversation with a startle, acting as if they’ve been doing nothing of the sort. Oscar snorts, taking a sip of his wine.</p><p>Amateurs.</p><p>The amount of people here who appear to be clinging to the old ways makes his blood simmer unpleasantly. One or two are even wearing an emblem of their Meritocratic allegiances partially-hidden beneath their jacket or scarf, as if they should be <em>proud </em>of daring to display it, as if it is something to celebrate with like-minded friends.</p><p>“C’mon, let’s get some air.” Zolf says, cutting through his thoughts. He’s already moving towards the balcony by the time Oscar looks up.</p><p>Oscar is, as ever, entirely unable not to follow Zolf anywhere, and trails after him with a little smile.</p><p>That dies on his face when he hears his name floating on the air into the hall from outside.</p><p>“Have you ever seen something so utterly <em>ridiculous</em>?” Comes a female voice, as Oscar comes to a stop behind Zolf, the pair of them lurking just out of sight.</p><p>“I swear, it was bad enough when he disappeared for all that time with the <em>Harlequins</em> but to think he can come back and pick up where he left off?” A male voice continues. “What incredible arrogance.”</p><p>The previous voice laughs out a vicious trill. “With a dwarf as a lover at that! I ask you.”</p><p>He feels Zolf stiffen beside him. Without speaking, Oscar curls his palm over Zolf’s shoulder and squeezes, just a little. It’s nothing he hasn’t heard before, about other people. It’s nothing he hasn’t <em>said</em> about other people, poison dripped in the right ears.</p><p>“Look, Mary, we all have our own personal tastes, is it fair of us to judge?” The man speaks around an audible smirk.</p><p>“She’s just bitter.” Comes another male voice, drawling and intoxicated. “She had quite the thing for old Wilde, once upon a time.”</p><p>“Toby!” Comes a gasp that is clearly intended to be appalled but lands somewhere closer to embarrassment. “How could you say such a thing?”</p><p>Zolf huffs, lifting his chin and then striding off towards the balcony, leaving Oscar hesitating in the relative safety of the curtain’s shadow. He swallows, straightens his back and pastes on a smile. He’s never been shy before. He won’t start now.</p><p>He moves along at a leisurely pace, just coming into view in time to see the group of gossips hesitate at the sight of Zolf. His lover pauses, turning to them with a wide smile and dipping into a sarcastic bow.</p><p>“Evening.”</p><p>Inspired, Oscar swans out after him. “Zolf, there you are!”</p><p>He ignores the trio, making them as insignificant as they fear to be. Approaching Zolf, he sees the smirk grow on his lover’s face as realisation dawns and he gets in close enough to start to lean down. Zolf meets him halfway, tangling a hand in his hair (<em>okay, did he really have to—</em>) and kissing him back with a hungry little groan that shoots right through him.</p><p>It would be easy to get lost in the kiss but that would rather undermine the point of it, so Oscar pulls back, indulging in a quick appraisal of Zolf’s reddened lips.</p><p>“Hello there.” He hums, standing up and affecting a nonchalant air that he <em>knows </em>is convincing. It allows him to turn around and feign surprise at the fact that they’ve been observed the entire exchange.</p><p>“Oscar, old chap! It’s good to see you back.” The man whose name he’s not yet caught smiles, his expression matched with equal insincerity by his companions.</p><p>Oscar fixes a cool smile on his face, hand settling on Zolf’s shoulder. In turn, Zolf hums, sliding his hand over Oscar’s backside and letting it rest there.</p><p>“Is it really?” He asks. “Well, it’s always nice to be missed.”</p><p>“We heard all about your exploits in the Northern Wastes. Is it true what they say?” Toby says, leaning in a little too far for mere curiosity. “Did you <em>die</em>, Wilde?”</p><p>“Oh, <em>really</em>, do you believe everything you hear?” He smiles through the annoyance, looking down at Zolf with simpering affection. “I suppose there were many <em>little deaths</em>, at least.”</p><p>“Oh Wilde, you’re too much!” Mary laughs, but there’s murder in her eyes and he revels in it.</p><p>He allows an awkward silence to fall as he stands there looking at them, comfortable in his own superiority and intellect in comparison to their inanity. Alongside Zolf, the very master of uncomfortable pauses, it is easy to wait out the group to the very limits of discomfort, before they smile and nod and duck back inside the party without further comment.</p><p>“Gods, I love you.” He breathes once they’re gone, wandering over to the edge of the balcony and resting his arms on the stone balustrade. For just a moment, he allows his head to fall, the weight of everything becoming a little too much. “I’m too old for this Zolf.”</p><p>“This’ll be the last party.” Zolf says. “Remember that.”</p><p>It is unexpectedly thrilling to think of it. Of the crates upon crates that are piling up in his London residence, filled with the accumulations of two lifetimes and ready to be shipped to the coast within the week. Soon they will be free of all of this.</p><p>And people will be free to speak of him without him having to overhear it. At least until the next time he launches one of his works, but that seems like a problem for another time.</p><p>“I still can’t believe you agreed to run away with me.”</p><p>Zolf joins him, smiling contentedly as he looks out at the city below. “You know me. Sucker for a pretty face.”</p><p>Oscar laughs, feeling a swell of affection fill his chest. “That <em>is</em> what they always say about you.”</p><p>Behind them, he knows that he provides enough entertainment to fuel gossip for <em>months</em>. But with Zolf at his side, it all fades into insignificance. One day, long after the Meritocrats and Harlequins have been forgotten, he will harness the lingering power of his name, turn the people’s minds for profit. For now…</p><p>He is more than content to lean his head against Zolf’s and drink his mediocre wine and count down the remaining days to their escape.</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>